Not Ready
by DuskMoon15
Summary: Denmark and Norway take Iceland to a World Meeting in order to announce his independence, but not everything is as it first appears.


**AN: So I suddenly find myself on a one-shot kick with nothing to do since it's the first day of Summer Vacation for me. This has no historical background whatsoever, and is strictly an AU of sorts. I apologize in advance for any OOC characters, especially Norway. Why are the Nordics such great characters, but so difficult to write?**

It's true what they say, love must be blind

It's why you're still standing by the sinner's side

You're still by my side

When all the things I've done have left you bleeding

- FFH, 'Undone'

**Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I wasn't smart enough to come up with a concept like Hetalia.**

* * *

Of course it had been announced that Norway and Denmark would introduce a new nation at the World Meeting. They were required to announce it beforehand.

This was not what caught everyone off-guard.

It was the new nation's size. He was tiny, a child in every sense of the word.

Estonia recognized the shy nation from a few years ago. "Iceland," he called, much to the surprise of the other Baltics and Russia. "Welcome to the World Meeting."

Norway detached the young boy's hands from the hem of his shirt. "Greet him, Iceland," he prompted.

Iceland looked up at Norway and Denmark, then across at Estonia. "Hello," came the almost non-existant greeting. Denmark swept a hand through the boy's silver-white locks and produced a piece of black licorice from a pocket in his coat, offering it. Iceland took it and nibbled on the tip, self-conscious in the presence of all the larger nations.

"Don't bribe him, Denmark," Norway scolded. "That teaches him he'll get licorice for doing every little thing you want him to."

"He wore the dress last time just because I asked. I didn't even have to bribe him." Denmark ruffled Iceland's hair again, and Norway shook his head with a sigh.

"That's not something you say in the presence of others."

Iceland finished his licorice. He tugged on Norway's sleeve. "Can we go now? I miss Mr. Puffin."

"We just arrived. The meeting hasn't even begun yet."

"But I'm tired, big brother!" Iceland complained, causing Germany and England to disengage from their conversation and gaze expectantly at Norway. Iceland smiled as the older Nordic picked him up, placing him on his hip.

Denmark gave an impish grin. "You're such a good mommy," he teased. "Right, Icy?"

Iceland nodded, to the dismay of the nation carrying him.

"I'm your big brother, not your mommy." Norway grabbed Denmark's tie, pulling him down so that he was on eye level with Iceland. "If anyone, he is. He spoils you all the time, after all."

"Norway, may I speak to you?" England had approached while they were arguing. "In private, if it isn't any trouble."

Passing Iceland off to Denmark, Norway followed the Englishman out of the room. "What is it?"

"I know it's not my place to ask this... But are you sure he's ready to be independent?" Norway could tell who the former pirate was thinking of as he spoke. Not just one someone, but two. America and Sealand. "He's still only a child."

Norway glanced at the closed door separating him from his little brother before answering. "I'm not entirely sure he is, to be honest. All I know is that his people want it, and so does he." He clenched one hand into a fist. "Denmark and I don't want him to leave yet."

England nodded curtly. "That's all I needed to hear," he said. They returned to the main room.

Denmark waved from a chair, causing Norway to wonder why he was sitting down already. "Where's Ice?" he asked. Denmark pointed to his lap, where Iceland was curled up asleep. Norway's stoic expression softened ever so subtly. He sat down in the chair next to the taller Nordic and lightly kissed his brother's forehead.

"Dudes, the hero has arrived!" America struck a pose as he entered.

England had put back on his mask of irritation. "Late as usual, you bloody git," he pointed out.

America laughed it off and scanned the room. "Whoa, who's the cute little kid?" he queried, moving over to get a better look. He reached out to stroke Iceland's hair, but Denmark gave him a warning glare and Norway grabbed his wrist. "Chill, guys. I'm not gonna hurt him. He yours?"

"Iceland's my little brother," Norway declared firmly, using the same tone in which he would issue a challenge.

"Icy's really tired, America, so could you leave him alone for now?" Denmark laid one of his arms protectively across Iceland's middle. "I'm sure he'll be happy to talk to you once he's woken up."

"You just want an excuse to give him more licorice," Norway said, completely deadpan. He let go of America.

"He looks so cute when he eats it; even Sweden agrees with me!"

"Stop shouting, Denmark." Norway's voice remained level. "Let him sleep."

America was about to interject, but Denmark cut him off.

"You're just jealous because he likes me better!"

"Is that what all this is about? We brought him so he could declare his independence, not so we could argue over which of us he prefers."

England and Germany rose from their seats, prepared to separate the two Nordics if necessary.

"He's not ready to be independent! That's why I didn't tell you my boss never relinquished control over him!" Denmark's eyes flew wide when the words slipped from his mouth.

"You're not taking my little brother, Denmark!" Norway stood, real anger evident on his face.

The rest of the room went silent. None of them had ever heard Norway raise his voice before. Norway made a grab for Iceland, but Denmark pulled the sleeping nation out of his brother's reach.

"Back off, Norge. You don't have a choice," Denmark said calmly, enunciating each and every syllable.

"We had an agreement - we swore we'd do what's best for Iceland!"

White teeth showed between Denmark's lips as his expression twisted into a sneer. "Stop shouting, Norway. Let him sleep."

"Mmh... Den? Nor?" Woken by all the commotion, Iceland tiredly lifted his head, violet eyes barely open. "What's going on?"

"I think that's enough, you two," England said, placing himself between Norway and Denmark. He took Iceland from the dane, ignoring the angry protest that followed.

Norway managed his equivalent of a smile, putting on a façade for the sake of his little brother. "Nothing. Denmark and I were just having a disagreement, like always."

"You and I were just about to go home," growled Denmark as he rose from his chair. He held out his arms to England for the young nation, but the Brit did not relinquish Iceland. "England, give me Icy."

"Denmark..." Iceland whimpered, grabbing onto England's sleeve.

Norway shot Denmark a venemous glare. "I'll be taking Iceland if you don't mind."

England backed up a pace or two, feeling the white-haired nation shrink in on himself at the two older Nordics' voices. "You're frightening him," he cautioned.

America grabbed Norway by the arm and pulled him back. "Relax, dude. Nothing's going to happen to him."

Norway attempted unsuccessfully to yank his arm free. "Iceland is _my _little brother. Denmark can't take him!"

Germany spoke for the first time since the start of the argument. "Actually, Norway, if what Denmark says is true, he can."

"I have proof," Denmark announced, digging a wax-sealed paper from inside his jacket. He held it out to Germany. "Written by my boss himself."

Germany cast a glance at Norway and Iceland before accepting the paper and tearing the seal off. He read the letter multiple times. He handed the paper back to Denmark. "He's not lying," he said simply.

"I'm sorry, big brother," Iceland whispered, biting his bottom lip before continuing. "Denmark made me promise not to tell you."

Norway opened his mouth to object, but Denmark refused him the opportunity. "What's best for Iceland, remember? Well, this is what's best for him right now." The two nations' eyes met for a tense few moments, and Norway's gaze dropped first. Denmark turned triumphantly to England. He held his arms out again. "Come here, Icy. We're going back to my house."

With a heavy sigh, England set the young nation down. Iceland remained where he was for a second or two, and then reluctantly went into Denmark's waiting arms. The dane picked him up, blocking his view of the other nations by pressing his face into his jacket. Iceland tried to look at Norway anyways, but Denmark whispered in his ear, "Don't look. You'll only hurt yourself if you look."

Norway twisted vainly in order to escape America's grasp. "Iceland!" he cried, reaching for his little brother even though he knew it would do no good.

"Bye, Nor," came the quiet voice of Iceland, muffled by Denmark's jacket.

Norway found himself incapable of returning the goodbye, instead sinking into the chair he had risen from, the hand that had reached for Iceland now cradling his forehead. America hesitantly released his arm, standing close by in case of another outburst.

His head down, Denmark turned away from the other nations and walked away without a word of farewell to anyone. He held Iceland close to his body, shielding him from prying eyes. Once they were far from the conference room, he said to Iceland, "I'm doing this for your own good. You know that, right?"

"I know," Iceland replied, his little hands clinging to Denmark's jacket with the same intensity as they hand clung to Norway's shirt earlier.

"You're not ready to be independent yet. Norway should know that," Denmark muttered, more to himself than to the nation he was carrying. His pace increased a little bit. "I said I'd do what's best for you, and that's exactly what I'm doing." He bit his bottom lip, not caring when he drew blood. He shifted Iceland over to his hip so he could dab at the self-inflicted wound with one of his sleeves. After a minute or two, he continued talking. "Norway's not strong enough to take care of you on his own, but I am. It makes sense for me to take care of you. Of course it does - I'm the King of Northern Europe, so I'm best suited to take care of you until you're ready."

Iceland laid his head on Denmark's shoulder, staring at the ground.

Taking notice of the silence, Denmark grunted and moved Iceland so the small nation was pressed up against his chest again. "You're awfully quiet. Whatcha thinkin' about?"

Quietly Iceland said into his jacket, "Mr. Puffin is at Norway's house."

"I'll ask Finland to get him for you later, okay?"

"If you say so."

Guilt tugged the corners of Denmark's mouth into a scowl. He didn't like the resigned tone in Iceland's voice. "It'll be alright, Icy. Big brother Denmark will make it alright," he promised, but his heart wasn't in the words. Big brother Denmark? Who was he trying to fool? _Norway_ was Iceland's big brother. Not even the King of Northern Europe could take his place. "We're going to have a lot of fun together, just like we always do. Nothing's going to change." _Except Norway won't be there._

Iceland just gripped the older Nordic's jacket tighter.

Denmark bit his lip again, and the iron tang hit his tongue for a second time. "Hey, you want some licorice? That always cheers you up."

Iceland shook his head.

"Big brother Denmark will make it alright," Denmark repeated, pressing Iceland closer to his chest as if afraid the white-haired nation could disappear at any second if he didn't hold him tight enough. "You'll see. We don't need Norge to be happy. We can be happy by ourselves, right?"

No reply from the nation in his arms.

"Right?"

Iceland remained mute, burying his face deeper into Denmark's jacket.

Denmark felt his resolve snap. "Dammit, Icy, say something!" he begged, his eyes starting to sting. "I don't care what the hell you say to me! It doesn't matter if you hate me, just say something!"

Almost a full minute passed before Iceland timidly tilted his head back to look at the desperate Nordic. "... Denmark?"

Denmark took a few more silent strides and held Iceland closer if it was at all possible. "Yeah, little buddy?" he asked, not bothering to hide the tears streaking down his cheeks.

Iceland pushed his face back into Denmark's jacket. "I miss Norway already," he said miserably, ashamed of the tears streaking his own cheeks.

Denmark stopped in his tracks, loosening his grip on the young nation. He sighed, guilt heavy in the sound. "I miss him too, Iceland," he confessed. "I miss him too."


End file.
